


Gift of Life

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Archimedes has become Death itself, M/M, Sniper contemplates life, end of the line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:58:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: END OF THE LINE Fanfic.Left on a literal cliffhanger, Sniper thinks only of the imminent... and what he'll miss when the balance tips.





	Gift of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freshsalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshsalad/gifts).



> It was a gift, for someone I cared for and now no longer speak to.

Well, fuck.

Really, what else there was to say when you were staring down your own mortality? 

 

Every breath seemed to shift the balance of the precariously perched camper van in a slight see-saw movement, edging ever closer to the inevitable plunge down, down, and yet down again into a seemingly never-ending abyss of white below. He should have bloody known he’d die in the snow.

Never could get what the others saw in the stuff. It was just cold, crispy, white bullshit in all directions… sure you can make a snowman, or toss a few snowballs but after that? You caught a cold and wished for death. The van’s heater gave a last strangled gasp before dying away, leaving nothing but rapidly cooling air to nip at Sniper’s exposed face, fingers and wrists.

Heavy and Medic loved it, the crazy bastards. Sniper grumbled into his collar, curling inward as best his lanky frame could manage in the cramped camper’s cabin; trying desperately to preserve the heat he could, and mentally cursing his snow-enthusiast team. Anything to keep the chill off, really. The sharpshooter suddenly wished he’d been rostered on at the outpost with Pyro… the little firebug’s weaponry would come in handy right now, even if it would require a bit of a sacrifice for the sake of survival; but then again, he could've probably just go buy new bedsheets if he didn’t, y’know, fall to his cold, eventual death below.

Actually, any of the others’d be a great help right now. Well, most of ‘em.

At least Spy wasn’t here. Now that’d be bloody unbearable… smug French bastard would love to watch the Aussie freeze to death, especially since he found out about… well, you know. Scout. Sniper just knew one day soon he’d find a red-handled knife buried in his ribcage over that little accidental revelation…

 

Without warning, a grinding shriek ripples through the chill air as the car shudders violently, and Sniper’s sharp eyes almost cross as they latch onto the innocent-looking form of a blood-spattered dove dead in the center of the van’ bonnet. Just bloody brilliant… death by glorified pigeon.

His heart nearly falls out his arse when the bird take off with a self-satisfied coo, and the entire vehicle begins sliding forwards at speed. Sniper’s not sure what words are coming out of his mouth right now, but he’s sure his mum was probably pretty disappointed; might just be able to take up the topic of his vocabulary with her directly, in a minute…

A tight, ‘ _Crikey…_ ’ snakes out through clenched teeth, as long limbs snap out to push against roof and floor, attempting to brace no matter how futile the action. He thinks he screamed, because someone was making a hoarse sound of distress… but Sniper’s pretty sure he hadn’t started referring to himself in the third person just yet.

 

There’s an unexpected shout from outside the cabin, and before he can even process that, his muscles are screaming with the fiery strain they're suddenly put under; the descent slowing, jerkily, and then… just as suddenly as the movement began, it stopped. Trying to work out what the hell was happening, Sniper frowns, eyes darting wildly around in disbelief as the camper van began to inch backwards.

Hands shoot through the half-open window and clutch at his shirt, “Snipes! Holy shit I thought you were dead!” comes the garbled rush of words before the familiar, slightly singed, face came into view. The runner looked frantic, but relieved… and his strong hands were just about ripping the jacket right off the sharpshooter.

“Hey, hey, easy mate… m’alright.” Sniper mumbles, relaxing the stiff limbs enough to put his hands around the fists clenching his clothing. “Not sure how, but it looks like I made it…”

 

Scout lets out a slightly-crazed bark of a laugh, just enough to send Sniper’s eyes skittering over the other’s form in a burst of concern; but at least the runner felt able to let go. Sniper curses as the van is released, slamming to the ground and knocking his head violently against the ceiling of the cab. There’s not even a second after to complain about the ringing in his ears, or the large lump that was already forming at the top of his skull, before the door is torn open and Sniper is yanked out.

Momentum sends them both to the cold, crispy snow in a heap of limbs and the hearty laughter of their teammates. Sniper barely glimpses Heavy at the rear of the van, with Medic hooting beside him, before his entire field of vision is invaded by the sight of Scout rushing in for a hasty thank-god-ya-not-dead kiss. The sharpshooter’s arms automatically snake up around the runner, a slightly less chaotic tangle of limbs ensued… right up until the first bite of snow slipped inside Sniper’s jacket and broke the moment.

They nearly headbutt as he jerks up and away from the spine-chilling flakes, sending Scout tumbling face-first into the crunchy white mess beneath them; and Sniper found himself laughing aloud, even as he surveyed the wrecked attire the other members of RED were wearing. At least they were here, it meant they’d managed to put an end to the BLU’s train trick… how exactly they’d done it, the sharpshooter wasn’t entirely sure, but it had to be a hell of a story.

 

A soft coo had Sniper throwing murderous glances towards Archimedes, where the dove perched atop the soot-covered helmet Solly wore; feathery little bugger didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed at nearly killing him!  Might have to have a little… target practice… near the Infirmary, if you catch his drift. His eyes narrow at the bird… and, bugger him sideways, Sniper could have sworn the bird did it right on back.

Demo interrupts this odd little showdown by hauling the aussie off of the ground. “There ye are lad, right as rain! A little snow didn’t hurt anyone…” Tavish jests loudly, then leans in close under the guise of a companionable clap on the back to whisper, “ _…might want tae leave bygones when it comes tae the bird, Snipes, Medic’ll have your lanky arse for a hat before ye could get the wee feathery beastie in your sights…_ ”

“ _Noted_.” he mutters back.

 

A spluttering mess of Scout was fished out of the snow by Heavy, and brushed free of the icy coating by a far-too-amused Medic. “Pffft, bleh, I think some got in my nose… ugh, thanks Doc, Big Guy. Looks like Snipes was too damn busy making googly eyes… eye?… at Demo to even notice when his boyfriend gets jammed in a snowdrift.” The runner quips, huffing dramatically and folding his arms. “You’d think saving his ass from falling off a damn cliff would get a guy a little more notice, but nah… off with the first hot sword-wielding explosives expert he sees…”

“Oh, so leetle Scout pulled car from the edge, did he?” Heavy asked, not even hiding his bemused grin. “Would think he needs more than little sticks for arms to something like this, da?”

“Oi, one more word outta you and I’m telling Spy what you two did to his favourite armchair… or should I say-…” Scout didn’t even finish the sentence before Medic had clamped a silencing hand over the fast-moving mouth, a lethal warning in his piercing blue eyes and a wide, somewhat threatening smile on the doctor’s face.

“I think some things can be kept amongst friends, would you not agree, Herr Scout?”

 

Sniper laughs at the comical nodding that follows, as the runner is released and bounds over to his boyfriend. “Miss me?”

“Course I did, Bilby… now what the hell happened after you broke my bloody mirror off and threw yourself on that train?” Sniper asks, shuffling alongside the runner as they both make for the back of Medic’s ambulance with the other members. Engie was already hooking the camper up to his truck via the towing winch, so that wouldn’t be anything to worry about…

Scout practically tosses himself down on Sniper’s lap when they get inside, a bright beam of delight on his face and an arm hooking about Sniper’s neck as he begins the epic, and possibly half-embellished, tale. “Well, there I was, running along the train and knowing this was all on me, right? And I found a-…”

 

The words fill the small space of the cabin as the ambulance starts to move, and Sniper finds himself enraptured by the tale… or perhaps merely by the one who was telling it. They wind about him almost as tightly as the animated runner does, regaling them all with his legendary feats, and the sharpshooter finds he can’t help but smile.

For the first time he can recall since this whole mess began, Sniper found himself warm at last…


End file.
